Epes Sargent (1830-1880)
"Sargent was a minor playwright of repute." (Sharp)
Oh for one draught of cooling northern air!
That it might pour its freshness on me now;
That it might kiss my cheek and cleave my hair,
And part its currents round my fevered brow!
Ocean, and sky, and earth! a blistering calm
Spread over all! how weary wears the day!
Oh lift the wave, and bend the distant palm,
Breeze! wheresoe'er thy lagging pinions stray,--
Triumphant burst upon the level deep,
Rock the fixed hull, and swell the clinging sail!
Arouse the opal clouds that o'er us sleep,
Sound thy shrill whistle! we will bid thee hail!
Though wrapped in all the storm-clouds of the north,
Yet from thy home of ice, come forth, O breeze, come forth!
(Text from American Sonnets)